


Love as a Constant

by Exorciststuck



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Allergic reaction, Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Camping, Drabbles, F/F, Fluff, Hospital, M/M, Post-Sburb/Sgrub
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-05 13:26:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6706165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exorciststuck/pseuds/Exorciststuck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No matter where you are, you come together in many different ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. John and Dave: Lovable

“You know,” you had said, your fingers carding gently through Dave's hair as the two of you laid together, basking in the afterglow. Those same fingers had been buried inside of him less than half an hour ago, but you'd taken to keeping antibacterial wipes by your bed, because the shuffle of shame to go wash your hands just to touch him was too much when you were overwhelmed with the need to be near him.

His attention is entirely on you, and you smile down at him, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, which was only sort of sweaty. Proof of a job well done, you figure. 

“Well what,” he eventually caught on that you wouldn't speak without further prompting, too lost in the sight of his eyes, and his pale skin, and the way his lips looked after a full session of kissing and yelling and sighing your nam-

He paps your cheek firmly, and you sigh, leaning in to peck him on the lips, “you know, I was just thinking, when we were kids, you always talked about sex, right? But never love. And maybe it was just because we were thirteen and I just learned what pornhub dot com was and you were discovering teen hormones, but..” You lose the words, making a small noise of frustration, and Dave laughs softly, his fingers slowly tracing down the length of your arm.

“You're not wrong,” well, that much is a relief, “god knows love wasn't something in my childhood,” you feel that furrow in your brow that pops up whenever you know he's getting into some pretty heavy stuff, and he reaches up to rub his thumb against it, “chill Egbert, it's over now. I'm fine, ain't I? All I was gonna say is that I never really thought someone would love me.”

“That's never all you're really going to say,” you start with, and then kiss him gently, rolling onto your side so you can trace patterns on his bare chest, “and I love you. I love you a lot.”

“And you sure took your time sharing that little tidbit, didn't you?”

You sigh, shrugging. Your shit was your shit, but you weren't sorry you'd taken your time- god knows how badly it might have gone if you'd rushed into Dave headfirst, and, anyway, “what about Rose, huh? She loves you. Dirk and Roxy do too. And Jade loves you. Hell, Terezi and Karkat love you too.”

“I dunno...” You groan, flicking him in the nipple, and he yelps, kicking the air, “what the fuck was that for!”

“For being a big stupid head is what! Come on dude, you know they do. You're a lovable guy.”

He has this look on his face like you just tried to sell him fake Nike shoes, and you sigh, draping yourself over him, “Dave, seriously. You are the most lovable guy I know.”

For once, he doesn't argue back, and for a few minutes you just lie there, face pressed to his shoulder as he thinks, his breathing slow and even. He breaths like a clock when he isn't flustered, and while normally you'd find amusement in breaking his metronomic breaths, for now they soothe you. Then, after those moments pass, you hear a very soft whisper say, “you haven't looked in the mirror lately.”

You try to smack his arm, but he must have anticipated it, and he grabs your hand, kissing each finger gently, “but I guess it's fine if I take second place in the lovable race, yeah?” 

Stunned and charmed, you only nod, letting him guide you onto your back so he can place his head on your chest- listening to your heartbeat. You know he likes that best, he told you that it helps drown out the gears in his head, and your hand returns to his hair, gently carding through it once more.

You don't really care if you're the most lovable guy around, but you're proud to say that you're the one who loves Dave best.


	2. John and Dave: Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "John/Dave, John is doing a terrible job at pretending hes not jealous"

Dave was standing very close to a handsome young man John had never met. That man had brown hair, and skin that looked perfectly airbrushed, and a wallet that looked heavy in his back pocket. 

John crunched the empty plastic wine glass in his hand, the thick plastic cracking under the pressure as he stared at the two of them, conversing in the middle of the cold concrete room.

It was Dave's first time in an art show, a student exhibition that he was featured in, along with other artists at the university he attended. Of course, Dave went, hiding his pride behind his aviators, and John went along with the assurance that he'd spend the entire time eating the little cubes of cheese and rolls of meat, embarrassing Dave by pointing and showing him off to anybody who tried to converse with John.

He really was proud of Dave as well, and why wouldn't he be? He'd worked damn hard to get to where he was, spending hours at a time in the stinky, black air of the dark room, or going out at weird times to strange places for his photo shoots, and more than once John had been there to help him hug it out when he'd had a problem, technological or otherwise, and things had fallen apart.

Now, many months and cups of coffee and crying sessions later, Dave was here.

And he was standing very close to a handsome young man John had never met.

It's not as if John really _cared_ , after all, there were other people in Dave's life involved in the creative process, and people who mingled, and people who wanted to see the artist behind the gorgeous surreal photos, and people who wanted to see the art behind the mirrored aviators. But he was so close, so very close.

Then an arm wrapped around Dave's waist, and he didn't hesitate to stand closer, and John saw white- searing hot white- the same time a gentle hand rested on his wrist. He exhaled, the tension in his muscles loosening, the death grip on the now crushed plastic glass releasing. When he turned, he saw Rose's face, concern and amusement mingling on her face as she made jumps and reaches and assumptions that were only aided by her now real research in the field of psychology. 

“John,” she said, her voice oozing with concern, laced with barely concealed enjoyment like the off coloured thread his father had always used to repair holes in his shirts. He scowled in response, and she sighed, leaning easily onto his arm, “John, you're glaring daggers into that poor man's back so hard he's going to have scars in the morning. Are you, perhaps, jealous of him?”

His scowl only grew, but he made no move to shake Rose off, “why would I be jealous of him? He's just some guy.”

“Some guy with your dearest friend hanging off his every word, sighing and laughing,” she sighed herself, although it was not one of contentment. Reaching up, she brushed a piece of hair from John's face, “you could always go speak to them, you know. I'm sure you're aware of the social privileges that come with being 'best bro's' with one of the featured artists in the show.”

She was right, but still, John shook his head, “I'm not jealous, and I don't want to speak to them.”

“Well then, suit yourself,” she hummed, reaching behind herself to grab a chocolate covered strawberry. Already, John could tell the chocolate was cheap, but he made no move to inform Rose of it's low quality as she bit into it- a petty revenge, if one at all. Then, he sighed, and she patted his arm, the two of them standing there, watching Dave.


	3. John and Dave: Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Dave keeps finding excuses to sleep in johns bed

Sometimes Dave turned the heat on their thermostat down low right before bed. He liked to tell himself that it was because he wanted to save money on their utility bill, but he knew that wasn't quite the truth, and there was no point lying to himself when his next thought was imagining how nice John's arms would feel around him, protecting him from the cold. 

Dave was also scared of thunderstorms. They just scared the shit out of him, which is why he went running out of his lecture when he heard the rumble of thunder, just to photograph the way the rain and the sun mingled, and the flash of light filling the spring sky. He just hated them so damn much, and John was such a good guy, always willing to wrap his arms around Dave and squeeze him tight, whispering to him that the storm would pass and he'd be okay, he'd always be okay. After all, John wouldn't abandon him. 

Then there were the times that Dave had nightmares, waking up in a cold sweat, his eyes wide and his breath stuck in his throat, voice trapped on a sob that wouldn't come out, lest he awaken the memories that had trudged themselves up. There was no smooth talking to get into John's bed then, there was just the hesitation that came with real desperation, and the barely concealed fear that John would be too tired to help him, telling him to go splash some cold water on his face until he was alright.

But John was loyal, if nothing else, and when Dave came to his bed John stirred, opening his arms even half asleep. It was a relief to clamour into him, hiding his face in a warm chest, breathing in the raw scent of John, a perfect mix of his laundry detergent, soap, shampoo, and the underlying smell that was _him_. Dave breathed it in like he'd just hit the surface of the water after lying at the bottom for so long, and his hands clenched into fists in John's shirt, his entire body trembling like a shitty little chihuahua stuck up in Canada for a weekend trip.

He wasn't asked what the dream was about, because John knew he didn't like to discuss it. Instead, he was shifted until he was comfortable, and then John's breathing settled as he fell back asleep. There, safe in his arms, Dave was surrounded by comfort and love that let him forget his fears for the night, joining him back in a world of rest.

And maybe, he thought to himself the next morning as John buried his face into Dave's hair, maybe John liked sharing a bed with him as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well ain't this a short little thing


	4. Jade and Rose: Swimming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Jade and Rose go swimming  
> but then it got away from me

When you'd convinced your three closest friends to come camping with you, there hadn't been a single doubt in your mind that it'd be a fun time, if not a bit of a disaster. And, honestly, your friends proved you right!

John was incredibly eager- almost too much- and as a result you had to pay Dave to distract him so you could set up the tents without his useless overenthusiastic instructions hating butt ruining everything!! You were just lucky that Dave accepted McDonalds coupons as a form of currency. 

For some reason, he also seemed to think he was good at the outdoors, which you think is probably because he's related to you and not to your other two lovely, camping incompetent friends. 

And Dave! Ugh, _Dave._ You loved him, but when he'd said he was allergic to the outdoors you really did have to agree. He burned like a piece of paper in a volcano, every single species of bug seemed attracted to him like he was some sort of shitty knockoff Disney princess, (even the ones that didn't drink blood! You definitely caught a hoard of butterflies chasing him,) and despite the traumatic childhood of Strifing and the now recreational fencing he did with Dirk, he was still about as fit for long-term exercise as a two year old. Plus, somehow, he'd never learned to swim, and despite John's efforts to teach him he was absolutely awful at it.

Even in a lifejacket AND a tube, he somehow ended face down in the water with John laughing at his helpless sputtering.

Then, Rose. If you loved Dave, you loved Rose a million billion times more, because she was your pretty and smart girlfriend full of big words and metaphors and a gorgeous smugness that always made you giggle when she aimed it at her brother. But, despite all that love, you had no qualms admitting that if you were stuck in the wilderness together, you would both die within the month, because Rose was the worst at the outdoors. 

Maybe it was because she was subtle about it that the boys didn't bring it up, maybe they were scared to, or maybe they were just too busy fucking up themselves to notice that she hadn't even left the car, instead staring wistfully out the window. You knew from experience that she'd grown up on music and culture, and that the extent of her fitness training was one year of swimming lessons before she complained about the chlorine in her hair and dropped out. You also knew she was afraid of cougars, bears, racoons, rats and fire, and a bit of a germaphobe, and that she was pretty much the princess and the pea when it came to where she slept. 

Sure, she didn't complain about it, but you knew that Rose was not at all prepared or emotionally ready for camping. Yet, the fact that she was still there- moping in the car, yes- but there all the same? It moved your heart. 

After setting up the campsite while Dave took John into the woods to do who knows what, you let them set up the fire as the sun began to set, the sky taking on a cool blue light as twilight washed over the world. You were full of energy from the reality of being outdoors, and even as night started to come for you there was a sense of excitement.

But Rose still hadn't left the car after two hours, and you opened the door, sobering your expression up as you touched her knee, putting on your best puppy dog face that you'd gotten from Bec, “Roooose, don't you want to come hang out with us?”

She was visibly tense, even as you touched her, a smile forced onto her lips, “I'm fine here, thank you. I have to admit I've become quite enamoured with the upholstery in John's car.”

You scrunch up your nose, shaking your head, “it smells like cum and french fries.”

“Yes, well, perhaps I'm on a phallic-shaped fast food kick. You know, it's rude to comment on a woman's cravings.”

You smile despite yourself, leaning in to nuzzle her shoulder, “Rose, come on, you're being silly! The only thing phallic you like eating is between my legs.”

“Are you suggesting that I might, perhaps, be sexually involved with you?” You nod, kissing her cheek, while she gasps, “why, Jade, what will my _mother_ say?”

“Uh... Probably 'go get 'em girl,' knowing her...” You smile sheepishly at her, and she sighs, rubbing the bridge of her nose. She's not always the happiest that you get along swimmingly with her mom, but you're glad that your potential mother-in-law likes you! But still, that is not the problem right now, because you are miles and miles away from your girlfriend's mom and the air smells fresh and clean and you want to show your girlfriend a fun time!

Since there was no way she was going to get out of the car with your words alone, you rely on brute strength instead, scooping her up and out. She squeals, and John peeks out from behind a tent to look in your direction before turning away, his hair suspiciously more messy than before.

Instead of worrying yourself with him, you trot away with Rose in tow, laughing as she looks around. If she wants down you know she can squirm and scream her way free, but considering the way she's gone quiet, holding onto you with her arms around your neck, you have a feeling she's accepted her fate.

You take her all the way down to the lake, and set her down on a rock, placing a flashlight against one as well. When you turn it on it makes a dome of light, which is helpful considering the sky is steadily darkening.

While she's distracted, you manage to strip off all of your clothes with speed and practise, stretching your arms above your head. One of the best things about camping in such a remote area is that you can let it all hang loose, and you do, much to Rose's apparent enjoyment, if her shy smile is anything to go by.

You smile right back, shaking your hips a few times, and then walk over to gesture to her shirt. “Jade, I'm not sure this is the best idea. While I'm positive skinny dipping is on most bucket lists, it's really not on mine. Besides,” she lowers her voice, almost a whisper, “what if somebody sees us?”

“Rose, oh my god!” You can't resist smiling, leaning down to kiss her. She reciprocates despite her obvious embarrassment, and you can feel the heat in her cheeks even if you can't see it as the last hints of daylight fade away. “I promise, the only people who _might_ maaaaybe see us are John and Dave, and I'm pretty sure they're having sex on their tent right now. Ugh, I'll probably have to fix it later if they knock it over, and it'll stink like sex,” you groan, and Rose smiles, running a finger through your long hair.

“Well, I suppose if you're sure they won't see..”

“Rose, I am _so_ positive.”

She smiles, and you smile right back as she takes her shirt off, her soft plump body your favourite thing in the word. You can't resist leaning in to kiss her neck, making her laugh into your ear as you stand her up and help her with her skirt, getting a nice handful of her ass in the process.

“I love you a lot, Rose,” you beam at her, and she smiles, pulling you down to kiss gently. 

“I love you too, Jade. Even if you insist on taking me to absolutely abysmal places.”

“But you have to admit it's beautiful Rose!”

“Yes, yes. Like a postcard. Really, the most beautiful thing here is you,” while her words are sweet, you know she's wrong, because she's the most beautiful. You don't argue with her though, instead choosing to sweep her off her feet.

Then, you dunk her into the cold water. 

Then, the two of you kiss as you spin around in the shallows, illuminated by the moonlight and the thousands of stars visible above you. 

Later, you'll complain that you left your flashlight on and the battery died, and you'll roast marshmallows that she'll eat turned away from the fire, and she'll somehow manage to fall asleep curled on top of you. John and Dave will be too loud and you'll yell at them, but you know you'll have a lot of fun with your outdoor incompetent best friends.


	5. John and Dave: Meeting Dad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: dave's first visit to the Egbert house after dad finds out him and john have started dating

There was a plan in place. You and Egbert, you'd sat down one day with a piece of paper and a pen and brainstormed together how exactly to explain to his wholesome traditional family value loving father that his youngest son was dating his long time best friend, and that the two of you were very happy together and really nothing was different except that you kissed sometimes and please Dad/Mr.Egbert, don't refuse to let the two of us be in the same room alone together, seriously, we're horny teenage boys and we have _needs_ , even if we're under your roof sir. 

Okay, so John had vetoed the last part, but you knew what you wanted out of this and it wasn't a dadly cockblock getting in the way of you teaching your boyfriend the finer art of vibrating penis rings and Japanese rope bondage and you prancing around John's room wearing your sister's old middle school cheer outfit from one year of her mom stuffing her into a sport. (It barely fit her and it barely fit you, twins to the end of time, but she'd admitted in no subtle tones that her two girlfriends hadn't even appreciated it. Jade just had no cultural context, and Kanaya was too damn scandalized by the fashion nightmare to pay attention to the way Rose's skin was peeking through the cheap polyester, so it'd gone to you.)

Point is, you had a lot of shit you wanted to do and you didn't want any family values getting in the way of you getting laid. But John, bless his soul, had been very adamant that he tell his Dad, if only because he was afraid that it'd be a lot harder to explain why you were blowing him in a tiny skirt if his Dad came in expecting two young men playing video games.

By the end of that night you two had devised an expert plan to explain your relationship to John's father, complete with a powerpoint, a batch of cookies, and one backup plan of a detailed SBAHJ comic about their blooming man romance. The plan would've been perfect if you hadn't gotten tired, John driving you home and then exhausted, he took himself to bed right after. 

The next morning, the plan that had been left on the counter was gone, replaced with an eerily blank round cake. He'd texted you right after, and once you'd woken up you were quick to hurry over to his place, panic running through your veins. There were swear words and _sexual innuendos_ on that page, and goddamn were you worried that uptight Father Egbert would ban you from the home once he put two and two together that his son was banging a guy who described his sexual plans in explicit detail on printer paper, with only one scrawny little line hiding them from prying, disapproving eyes.

John's Dad was at work, which was the only real reprieve you got. The first thing you did was rush in to kiss John long and slow, touching him like he was about to go off for compulsory military service or some shit. When he pushed you away you knew he knew that you were freaking out, but the, “jeez Dave,” and gentle hair ruffle he gave you were pretty damn strained themselves.

“This is real fucking bad.”

“Well, yeah! This is super embarrassing. I didn't need my Dad to know I have a crossdressing-bondage-vibrator fetish!”

“Don't forget furry.”

“Okay, fuck off Dave, it isn't a furry fetish if you blow me while you're wearing cat ears, alright? And we're getting really off topic right now!” he shoves at your face, halting the wiggling eyebrows that had begun, “and stop doing that, jackass! You're the one who came in looking like I'd just contracted a terminal illness and this was our last date together.”

Your expression grows more somber, and you glance at his hands, “but what if it is.”

It'd be easy for him to tease you, but instead he sighs, bringing you in close for a hug, “you're being stupid. He won't care. Sure, he might be a little weird about it, but this is my fault. I shouldn't have left the stupid plan on the counter, especially after you wrote all that stuff.”

“But what if he doesn't think I'm respectable enough for a stand-up guy like you? Dude could tell me to get the fuck out of his house.”

“Pfft, and what would that do? Come on Dave, I'm eighteen, and he's not that strict,” he sighed, kissing the top of your head, “if it's really that big of a deal, we can make a respectable dinner and wear respectable clothing and show him the powerpoint anyway?”

“...Alright,” it's a start, at least. You feel John exhale in relief, before he pulls away and kisses your forehead, and then all over your face, until you can't help squirming and smiling just a little, making him smile even wider.

“There's my stupid boyfriend!” He kisses you a few more times before he pulls away, his hand lingering on your arm, “Dad really likes chicken cordon bleu, so we can go get the stuff for it from the grocery store, and then swing by your place and grab a suit for you to wear, alright? We have a few hours until he comes home, that's plenty of time.”

The two of you get to work, dedicated to making the best damn fancy dinner to prove your responsible respectableness. John holds your hand as he leads you through the grocery store, holding a basket full of food without breaking a sweat. On top of the whole chicken ham and cheese thing, you picked up some strawberries and lettuce too, relying on what you know about fancy salads- they always have fruit. You'd grab nuts too, but killing your boyfriend isn't really the best way to make a good impression. 

None of your family is home when you rush into your house, (thank god,) so you lead John to your room and let him help pick between white or black for your suit. He talks you into a sleek red number instead, and damn you if you didn't jump and flush just a little when he pinched your ass and whispered that into your ear. Asshole.

Halfway through making dinner, you note just how goddamn domestic it is. You're lobbing the tops off of strawberries and slicing them thin, confident in your skills with a blade, even if it's smaller and more useful than the pieces of shit you're used to. John butterflies chicken and stuffs it carefully, and the two of you manoeuvre around baking supplies and each other with expertise you didn't know you'd had. You even manage a few stolen kisses over the vinaigrette he helped you make.

By exactly five PM the two of you are dressed and ready, the dining room table cleared of plates from breakfast and set with the nice silverwear, three sets of forks and knives waiting beside crystal champaigne flutes. There's a bowl of salad topped with strawberry and made of the _fancy lettuce_ sitting in the middle, a classy glass dish of vinaigrette beside it, and a sparkling bottle of chilled apple juice standing tall beside them both. John's chicken is sitting in the oven so it stays warm, John's laptop is plugged into the TV to show a powerpoint, and the two of you are standing in the kitchen, trying to count down the minutes between his father's exit from the office and arrival at the house.

The hardest part is, honestly, that despite the nerves in your system and John's clammy hand in your own, goddamn does your boyfriend clean up nice in a sleek black suit.

Now you've gotta find more black tie events to drag him to, grad looming in the distance just isn't enough. Maybe you can weasel your way into getting two invitations to some summer weddings.

Your fantasies of befriending the most baby ready high school sweethearts is cut short when a car pulls into the driveway, and John drops your hand, adjusting his tie. Apparently your nerves had transferred to him, and they just transfer right back to you, an electric spark between the two of you that keeps you connected.

Then, the door opens, and you both watch as John's father stares on in confusion, looking between the TV and the table and the kitchen, before finally landing on the two of you as John steps towards the door, taking his father's work briefcase from him with a one armed hug. You step into the dining room, unsure and hesitant, while your boyfriend pulls out a chair and guides his Dad to sit, “hey Dad! Dave and I were just thinking, woop, the cat's out of the bag! And the cat is our romantic feelings for each other. Because we're dating, and I love him. He's very responsible you know, Dave has never had a single drug, and he made the salad- he's very healthy.”

John goes to grab what you hope is the chicken, and you cough awkwardly, moving to sit in the chair across from his Dad, glancing down at the cutlery right as you hear his voice begin with a calm, “yes, well-”

And then John cuts him off immediately, coming back with three plates of chicken precariously balanced on his arms, “we are well! Thanks for asking. We're very healthy you know, Dave sees the doctor regularly for checkups. Not that he's sick or anything, no, he doesn't go because he _needs_ to, he's just a very well adjusted young man. Incredibly stand up.” You can't tell if his Dad is staring at you or John at this point, and you turn, nudging John in the arm to try and get him to shut up for _one fucking second jesus titshitting christ John_. Instead he goes, “gee, Dad, I really hope you like the chicken, Dave and I made it together, because Dave is really respectable and I love him.”

You wince, nearly faceplanting into your dinner as the fatherly stare undeniably trains itself onto you, examing you in that adult Dadly way you can't decipher. John's smile is wide and strained, and you look away from the unwavering eye contact his Dad is aiming at you, your palms sweatier than any sorry sucker in an Eminem rap. 

Finally, _finally_ , when it's clear John is done talking, you hear his father speak up with a firm, “I'm quite aware, son. You wrote it on your,” he clears his throat, a solid 'ahem' filling the air, “'best motherfucking plan ever.'”

John groans, and you feel yourself growing red with embarrassment, while his Dad continues on, “really, David, I had no idea you were such a wordsmith.”

You finally look up to meet his eyes, and you're startled when you see the crinkles of amusement in his eyes, a smile on his face, “I wouldn't dream of being a 'well meaning dadly cockblock,' I quite understand rampant teenage sexuality myself. You know, I was quite the experimenter when I was your age myself.” 

Your mouth falls open in shock, and John groans again, this time following it up with an exasperated, “Dad, gross! I don't want to hear about your sex life! We made you _dinner_ ,” you realise then that he's enjoying this, the stupid asshole is having fun embarrassing the two of you, and that realization makes your cheeks glow red as you rub the back of your neck. Stupid prankster family. 

“Of course, I'm terribly sorry son, Dave. And I'm incredibly proud of you both. Although, I insist that you hold off on your sexual experimentation until I'm out of the house, if you don't mind. Or, I suppose I'll have to help you both find an apartment for university this fall,” he smiles genuinely at you this time, and you can't help turning to John in excitement, gripping onto his arm.

The rest of the night you eat the meal you both prepared, and the three of you browse apartments in the area, talking about the merits of buying versus renting, what sort of furniture you'll need, and all that important stuff. 

You make a show of presenting the powerpoint you both made, and then the SBAHJ comic as well, explaining the deep symbolism behind every shitty jpeg artifact until John is shoving you and turning off his laptop. 

His Dad presents the cake from earlier with a smile almost as sweet as the icing within, but it isn't nearly as sweet when you cut it open to reveal a travel bottle of personal lubricant, hidden within the dough Mardi Gras style. Guess you never had to worry in the first place, your new maybe-father-in-law is an asshole just like the rest of you.


	6. John and Dave: Allergies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: john has a bad allergic reaction and dave gets Shaken Up

It was a fucking bagged caesar salad. Who the flip shitting christ contaminated their salad with _peanuts_ unless it was some sort of fancy nut salad? Dave knew no caesar salad he'd laid eyes on had peanuts, of all things, and the fact that the one time he bought a bag was the one time it happened to be dangerous was just fucking perfect. Thanks, Murphy's Law, or fate, or whatever bundle of dicks decided things would play out the way they did, thanks for being a major asshole to the best damn boyfriend on this planet.

The worst part was that it was supposed to be a dinner to make John feel good. Poor guy had been working his ass off, and Dave _knew_ just how much time and effort he'd put into studying for finals and applying for summer jobs in his field and desperately looking for a paid internship, because he was just so damn dedicated to getting out from under his Dad's wing, no matter how willing he was to support John. Dave found it pretty fucking inspiring, but he also got tired just watching John, while he comparatively felt like he was floating through art school with nary a thought of the future. (John liked to remind him that wasn't the case, but John was also sleeping off a pretty nasty case of anaphylactic shock at the moment because of Dave, so he couldn't say otherwise.)

John was hooked up to the EKG by his finger, a precaution that Dave knew was covered by his insurance, so it was fine. That didn't stop it from upsetting him, each perfectly timed beep loud and ringing in his ears, a reminder that John might have died, if not for his own hand. It's not as if Dave did anything but stand there, staring in horror and shock.

Of course John would've known what to do though, he lived with the allergy. Dave remembered vividly the way his eyes had gone wide at the table, his face reddening as he stood and rushed to the counter, sitting himself down on the floor. Dave had clamoured after him, lost and confused, and then watched as John stabbed himself in the thigh and gestured to the phone, staring at Dave.

Dave hadn't moved. He'd panicked. He'd made his fucking boyfriend call an ambulance with his cell phone while holding an epipen into his thigh because he'd frozen up. He could've driven him!

Instead, he was taken into the passenger seat of the ambulance and driven to the hospital as well, partially because he was the one who could most easily contact John's Dad- partially because he was panicking so much the medic thought he'd pass out from stress.

He wanted to cry, really. Somehow, in all their years together both as friends and as boyfriends (ten years four months and fifteen days- he counted frequently to calm himself,) John had never had an allergic reaction around him. He'd had one once, in the early days of their friendship, but it'd been at his school and Dave had only heard the tales afterwards where the school banned peanuts and he tried helplessly to explain that no, it's okay, it was his fault for thinking if he ate the peanut butter cup really fast he'd be alright. 

At the same time, the thought of crying and waking John and worrying John made his stomach curl and knot uncomfortably, and it was enough to ground him into a state of silent worry and panic, borderline catatonic with stress and guilt.

When John's hand touched his arm, cold and clammy, he jumped nearly a mile into the air. He turned to look at John, who was smiling at him in that sleepy way he did whenever he wore himself thin with work, the bags under his eyes somehow not at all diminishing his handsomeness. Dave breathed out, and John pulled his arm closer, rubbing Dave's hand on his face. “You're freaking out,” it was a statement, not a question, and Dave didn't need to respond for John to know he was correct. Letting out a sigh, John kissed the inside of his wrist. “I'm alive, aren't I? I'm fine, Dave. It's not your fault, it's not like you fed me a fried peanut burrito made with peanut oil served with peanut sauce. It was a mistake.”

“You could've _died_.” Dave frowned, his eyebrows furrowing together.

John just smiled at him, mischievous even after everything that had happened to him. “I could die every time I let your grandpa ass drive, but I still let you do it.”

“Fuck off Egbert,” he was pouting, but the fact that John was up to his usual dickish antics was pretty comforting, especially coupled with all the touches he was laying on Dave's hand. 

Pressing a kiss to his hand once more, John gave a gentle tug, smiling up at his boyfriend, “love you too. Now come here, you dickbag. I want some affection and you need a hug before you pop.”

“I won't fit.”

“Yeah you will,” John shuffled right to the side of the railed bed, patting the spot next to him, “come on, you're about as big as an oversized stick and I know you'll end up half on top of me anyway.” John did a pretty damn convincing job, and it didn't help that Dave wanted the attention so badly. He climbed right into the bed with John, and pressed himself against his boyfriend with a drawn out sigh, predictably tossing an arm and a leg over John's form.

John responded in kind, wrapping his arms around Dave, pressing gentle kisses to his face that served both to soothe Dave, and also give him a strange feeling of sadness as he cuddled up to John, closing his eyes. “Why the hell are you comforting me when you're the one who almost died? This is stupid.”

“You're stupid. I love you, and you're freaking out. Relax, alright Dave? It's not a big deal.” He wasn't leaving Dave any real room to argue, and to be honest, Dave wasn't really energized enough to try anyway. Instead, he grunted out a sound that neither agreed nor argued, kissing John's shoulder.

Later, when a nurse came to tell John he was free to go, she was greeted with the sight of John and Dave all tangled together like two sticky pieces of spaghetti, both of them peacefully asleep. She woke them up, since they needed the beds and everything, but before then Dave had felt relatively peaceful. John was damn good at what he did, calming him down and everything. It was no wonder they made such a good pair.


	7. John and Dave: Affection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: john and daves years long one-upmanship battle of casual displays of affection

They couldn't really call it gay chicken, Dave supposed. After all, that would imply they'd have to face their fear of being gay, and at this point they were _way_ beyond that. To call it gay chicken was a disservice to the amount of shameless dedication they'd put into their strange teeter-tottering relationship, and at the same time a complete misrepresentation of the special type of no-homo skirting that defined gay chicken as a sport.

He wished he knew what his tipping point was, so he could better prepare for the way his heart skipped a beat whenever John did something affectionate. He wished he knew if his own affectionate actions made John feel anything as well. God, he prayed that the entire thing wasn't some weird way for John to fuel his Prankster's Gambit.

Last week, it'd been food. John had made an effort to present Dave with meticulously decorated cupcakes adorned with hearts and records, and Dave in turn had taken John to a burger place he'd wanted to try, splurging to get his fake-date the three patty burger he barely made a dent in before requesting to go. 

Then they'd gone to the mall together, shopping with each other like any pair of bros would. Picking out clothing to buy each other as gifts, like any pair of bros would. Dave liked his new shoes a whole goddamn lot, and he'd definitely seen John toting around his new watch religiously. 

Today, it seemed to be clothing. First, Dave noticed one of his old shirts on John's shoulders, the seams fit to burst containing his broad form. Dave knew it'd stretch like shit, and he should have been mad, but somehow he couldn't find it in himself to feel anything more than a warmth in his gut. Then John had wrapped his hoodie around Dave's shoulders, enveloping him in warmth that he didn't really need, but fuck did it smell like John. 

If someone asked Dave when they'd started this, he'd honestly say he didn't know. Somewhere between friendship and where they were now, strange rituals had developed between them, and at the risk of wrecking what they had he'd never pushed for more. Besides, at least like this, with John's jacket on his shoulders and shoes John bought him sitting by the door, the two of them lying in John's bed, he could pretend things were explicitly romantic. 

In all honesty, he should've been angry as fuck at John for making him the living equivalent of homoerotic subtext, but he was hopeless for that smile.

He shifted, and John pulled him closer, squeezing him around the waist as some forgettable action flick flashed across the screen. Dave turned to press John's hand to his face, and John leaned down, pressing his nose into Dave's hair. 

“Dude, you're thinking really loudly,” Dave felt John's words on his head, and he twitched. “I can hear you thinking from here, even. Come on, is something up?” He briefly registered that John had paused the film, and then John was leaning over, their cheeks brushing as he spoke, “I'll listen, even if you call me a giant douchebag or something.”

“It's nothing,” John scoffed, and Dave bristled, relenting helplessly, “alright, fine. Fuck you, you giant douchebag,” he paused, giving John the chance to register the words and beam at him before he continued, “I'm just thinking about feelings and shit. Romantic shit. You know, the gross sappy kind that oozes out the brain and makes everything stink worse than the smell of some real bad burrito farts.”

“Oh, ew. You make love sound so gross Dave, what the fuck.”

“It is gross! Jesus, John, have you ever _been_ in love?” He knew John knew that he was a hopeless romantic, and as long as the object of his affections remained anonymous than he didn't care.

Still, John's nexts words came as a surprise, when he let out an offended, “yes!” and then rolled his eyes. “Really, you are such an oblivious loser sometimes Dave, did you know that? I'm super in love.”

John was uncomfortably quiet then, and Dave felt tingles run down his spine, making him sit up straight. They must have sat there in the quiet for at least two minutes, only the sounds of traffic in the faint distance disrupting their silence. Then John sighed, and Dave felt his shoulders slump.

“You really don't know? After all this?”

“All.. This?” He frowned, glancing around at the posters, until John groaned.

“No, you dumbass! All _this_ ,” he'd grabbed Dave's hand, forcing their eyes to meet. “I don't buy expensive designer sneakers for any old guy, Dave.”

He blinked, behind his aviators. Really, it was all he could do at first. Blink, and then frown in confusion, and then sputter helplessly until John laughed and lifted his hand, kissing Dave's palm. “Next, I'll buy you a hoverboard so you can be even more of a tool than normal, alright Dave? Because I love you. In a gay way.”

“I- I love you too..” Still confused and mostly on auto-pilot, Dave groaned, “you're serious?”

“Does my gambit look like it's going up?”

“You love _me_?”

“Yeah, a whole lot. You make my heart do weird stuff when you're being dumb and sappy dude, it gets all fluttery and my chest hurts and I wanna kiss you.”

“I'm buying you a whole fucking scooter to drive me around in.” He said it offhandedly, accepting John's confession by planning further ways to be more romantic than him.

“What?”

“I said kiss me, you dickwad.” So John did, very gently.

He ended up getting a two person bike instead, and Dave got heelies, and the two of them managed to fall more in love with each ridiculous show of affection, no matter how flashy or small or cheap or lazy it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this or any of my other fics, consider [tipping me](https://ko-fi.com/A6873KP). It'd mean a whole lot, and I would surely be biased to write any suggested prompts from tippers first.


	8. John and Dave: Airport Meeting

It'd taken a fair amount of babysitting jobs, a weekend of baking classes with his Dad, and a 4.0 GPA for John to convince his Dad that letting Dave stay for the summer was a good idea. Unsurprisingly, it'd taken Dave only a promise of visiting the original Pike Place Starbucks to take dorky photos to get Dave applying for Seattle universities.

Really, it was the perfect plan! He got his Dad to agree to getting him a dorm, he got Dave to agree to come visit, and then the visit would never end and the two of them would room together and John would get to spend the next few years going to school with his best bro ever. It was using all his mischievous and coy skills for good, making sure he'd get to be with someone he cared about.

John graduated, and he took a few more babysitting jobs for extra spending cash, and then the date of Dave's arrival snuck up on him and he found himself sitting in the arrivals bay of the apartment, holding a massive glitter soaked hot pink sign that just said 'Strider,' with a whole bunch of sparkly hearts and an ugly looking pair of aviators.

Each minute that passed by had him more excited, bouncing in his seat a little as he peered through the crowds, until eventually he just stood and shifted to the front. Then the screen above changed the flight departing from Houston to arrived at destination, and he started getting jittery, holding the sign up above his head, shaking it around like he was an overeager fan at a boy band concert, trying to get the cute main singer to notice him and bring him on stage and kiss him and marry him- like a bad fanfic.

Dave could be his cute main singer, if he wanted, but John knew Dave was actually not a very good singer anyway.

Then all thoughts of Dave ceased, because the first people from the arrived flight began to file in, and he found himself standing on his tippy toes as he fought to get a look at the people coming in, searching for that familiar curly white-blonde hair among the crowd. 

When he saw it, he gasped. And then Dave saw him and gasped right back, leaving John to drop the sign and throw open his arms just in time to catch his best friend, who'd launched himself without hesitation right into John. Talk about a trust fall. With all the memento, John spun him in a circle, the two of them giggling wildly until John set him down and squeezed him tight. He pressed his face into Dave's hair, running a hand down his back, “I'm really glad you're here Dave.”

For a moment, he wondered if Dave hadn't heard him, but then he felt Dave shift, warm air washing over his ear. “I can't believe it's actually you.”

Pulling away, John beamed at him, his hands migrating to cup Dave's cheeks. “It's actually me! And it's actually you! Together!”

“Yeah, together,” Dave sighed, a giant smile on his face as he placed his own hand over the one on John's cheek, “finally.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drabbles will now be postponed as I gear up for [Johndave](http://johndaveweek.tumblr.com/post/146232682294/) and [Jaderose](http://jaderoseweek.tumblr.com/post/146398653449/) week! And, as always, if you enjoy my writing and want to support me, please consider kudos, comments, or [tipping me](http://ko-fi.com/A6873KP). Thank you for all your support!


	9. John and Dave: Baking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: and for that matter, what about some 3 am baking / food shenanigans for johndave

It'd been a long, strange week for John and Dave. A busy, busy week full of finals and parties and club events and reunions and then, suddenly- nothing.

For a solid week, John and Dave had absolutely nothing left to do before work started, time that they had to themselves to use as they saw fit. So, of course, they took to doing the single most important thing they could. Sleeping the day away.

They slept together, all curled up with their curtains closed tight and the house locked, their phones on silent and their alarms unplugged. They slept for twenty four hours straight, completely exhausted, and then they woke groggy and unsatisfied, downing two pizzas together before managing a quick shower and some basic dental hygiene before they'd fallen right back into bed, two shitty little pieces of string in the universe all curled together.

The second time the two of them woke up, they were much better rested and ravenously hungry, while also both needing to shit. While John beat Dave to the bathroom and the spoils of the porcelain throne, Dave sat there outside the bathroom door, stomach rumbling. Then they traded, John satisfied and Dave having his alone time, before the two of them congregated on the bed once more, trading lazy kisses.

“I'm so fucking hungry I could eat an entire stable,” Dave groaned into John's mouth, cupping his cheeks. “Fuck, John, you've gotta feed me or I'll _die_.” 

The immediate thought John had was to order pizza, but a quick look at the clock showed that any chance of pizza happening were slim to none. It was three in the morning on a Wednesday night, and John and Dave were alive while the rest of the world was hibernating. John frowned, looking at Dave. “It's, uh... A bit late. What do we even have?”

That was the other problem, really. Finals week wasn't really a time when cooking was of any importance, and they'd both been living off of coffee and energy bars and fast food and juice boxes for the past week, which meant the fridge was barren of any sort of instant foods. There was no yogurt, apples, ham, bread, or anything decent. Just eggs and butter and a crowded shelf of mystery condiments. 

Dave must have noticed the problem as well, because he went to the pantry, only to grown. Same problem. No cereal, (and even if they did have it, that meant going to walmart at three am to get milk, which sounded like a good idea until John remembered driving around in the isolated cold this late at night creeped the shit out of him.) and no chef boyardee or kraft dinner.

Then Dave tossed a bag of chocolate chips at John's face, an unopened bag of the good kind that John remembered stocking up on when they'd been on sale, and John knew exactly what he was getting at. 

“Sure, why not? Can't hurt, and it'll warm the room up. I know you get cold easily Dave, but I've got you covered, so don't worry!”

Then the bowl had come out, along with the spatula and the whisk, and John realised that Dave meant business- that Dave had a plan and he was going to fucking stick with it, one way or another.

Resolved to this fate, John got down the vanilla and the brown sugar for Dave, already beginning to measure ingredients out. He'd made chocolate chip cookies at least two hundred times in his life, he was sure of it, and by now he could beat the butter and sugar into a whip and measure it perfectly without a recipe.

Dave didn't have as much experience, but he knew what to grab, and John turned around to see salt and baking soda and powder waiting for him, along with flour. “Spray the cookie sheet?”

“Got it.” Dave took down the trusty bottle of kitchen spray, grabbing their cookie-only cookie sheet, spraying it. John had an idea, suddenly, while watching him.

So when Dave came closer to inspect the batter, John smacked him in the face with some flour. And then he laughed, getting a patch of white on his own shirt when he doubled over to clutch at his gut, the confused shock on Dave's face too much for him to handle.

He really wasn't surprised when he felt the 'pomf' of flour in his own hair, and he only laughed more, reaching into the bag to dust his fingers before going after Dave, who made a running leap at a chair, knocking it over as he rushed into the living room.

Still laughing at him, John chased with his fingers outstretched, until he had Dave cornered.

With nowhere else to go, John watched Dave frantically peer around, before grabbing John's face and kissing him firmly. For a moment, it worked. John melted into the kiss, and Dave sighed, hands settling on John's hips to pull him closer.

Then John swiped a flour covered hand across Dave's cheek, pulling away to giggle and kiss his forehead. “Come on, dickbag. We can't leave the cookie batter out, we'll get salmonella and shit ourselves and we only have one toilet.”

“I can do it in the neighbour's yard like some sorta fucked up kinky petplay scene. Won't even make you watch, but you're paying for the fines I get for public indecency. And shitting on someone else's yard. Man, what the hell would you even call that?”

“Well, I'd call it fucked up, personally,” John smiled, pulling Dave back to the kitchen with his floury hand. 

“Someone doesn't know how to have a little fun. Come on asshole, live a little,” Dave leaned up, kissing his cheek, 

Rather than waste more flour, Dave made John finish the batter, and then meticulously placed balls of chocolatey dough on the baking sheet, lining them up perfectly. They were put in the oven, timer set, and then they sat back and waited for the magic to happen.

Sure, it wasn't really _real_ food, but when John took the cookies out and Dave ate one, chocolate on his chin and a sleepy smile on his face, flour still smeared on his cheek, John decided that it was alright if it wasn't exactly a healthy balanced meal.

Dave put all the cookies onto a plate and poured two glasses of milk, and then they went right back to bed, watching a movie together as they cuddled and ate the rest of the cookies. The entire world was fast asleep, but the two of them were awake and content to be together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As it turns out, having a full time job _does_ significantly impact the ability to write fanfic.


	10. John and Dave: Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: secret relationship johndave

It'd been two months, and you hadn't told anybody. Sure, it was safe and all, nobody you knew had a problem with that sort of thing, but there were also plenty of reasons to keep the romantic relationship that had fermented between you and Dave a secret. After all, you didn't have to have any awkward talks with your Dad, and he hadn't gotten all uppity about the fact that you two were freshly eighteen and living in an apartment for university. The last thing you wanted was the sex talk.

Besides, you'd already had sex multiple times, and it was fucking awesome- pun intended. You didn't need some talk about making sure you were ready or being safe, you had the whoooole thing under control, and you'd both been tested and the two of you couldn't exactly conceive a child, thanks to Dave and his best friend testosterone. 

That just made it easier to not tell his Dad. If he didn't tell him, he could have sex freely! The same was true with Rose and Jade. You loved them to bits, you really really did, and you knew Dave did as well, but they were so nosey and it wasn't exactly uncommon knowledge that if they found out they'd never shut up about it! You could almost hear their voices, and you could definitely see Rose's self-satisfied smirk and Jade's pleased grin. No, better to hold back on telling them for as long as possible, so that when it did finally slip you'd both be too deep in the relationship to be embarrassed.

Plus, you got away with a lot of PDA when it wasn't gay. You knew from experience that nobody liked being around Rose and Jade when they got kissy. _You_ didn't like being around Rose and Jade when they got kissy. You didn't even want to think about when Kanaya got involved, _eugh._ Your sister was involved! Hell, it even bugged you when Karkat got too into his talks about romance movies. Sure, you appreciated his dedication to the art of film- even if his choice of genre sucked giant gay dicks, but hearing him get all teary and sappy about some gross stupid romance was gag worthy. So you knew deep in your soul your friends would abandon you both if being gross and sappy became an issue. And, hell, you wouldn't blame them! But if it was just as Bros, everyone was apparently alright with it.

Feeding Dave from your fingers? Bros. Spooning him on the couch during movie night? Bros. Holding his hand during drinking nights? Bros. Leaning in close to kiss his neck? Bros. Fucking on the couch? Probably still bros, which was just the weird truth to it.

You also knew nobody who you cared about would take offence. Dave was pretty openly trans and bi, and you'd long since abandoned trying to label things in favour of just living. To the outside world, you were just a guy who wasn't really looking for love. To you and Dave, you were his boyfriend and he was your boyfriend and you both had something sweet going on between you.

The weirdest thing though, honestly, was probably how much fun it was to hide it! There was a trill in knowing the two of you were doing very intimate private romantic things that nobody was aware you were doing. It was like keeping a secret with your best friend, except you were also deeply in love with that best friend and the secret was that having his tongue in your mouth was pretty fucking sweet. It wasn't even hard to hide either, you weren't particularly romantic in public, and most people knew you as very touchy and close people anyway. It made date night an adventure, a game to see if anybody from campus would catch you two holding hands at a Taco Bell, or cuddling in the movie theatre.

Sure, the game wasn't exactly going to last forever. You'd tell the people in your life eventually, or they'd catch you kissing on the couch and figure out something was up. Until then, you were happy to let it stay a secret and enjoy your private romance with Dave.


	11. John and Dave: Chilly Mornings

When John woke up, the first thing he noticed was how eerily quiet it was outside. It was a familiar lack of sound to him, and he hummed to himself as he accepted what seemed like the most reasonable explanation. Sometime during the night, it’d begun to snow. Judging from the lack of traffic sounds, it’d snowed enough that most drivers weren’t willing to venture outside until the roads were cleared.

Judging from the arms wrapped in a vice-like grip around his waist, it was cold enough that Dave wasn’t happy- even in his sleep. John couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled out of him at the sight of his husband curled around him like a koala cub. They’d been living together in Seattle for three years now, and that meant three winters to get used to the chill rolling off the Pacific Ocean. And even if the last two winters had been mild and soggy, he’d gone up to Mount Baker with John before.

But old habits broke hard, he figured- and Houston was a sweaty, muggy place. The dryness snow brought with it wasn’t John’s favourite thing either, his nose felt sore even inside after only one night.

He stared at the drawn curtains for a moment longer, before John laid back down and looped his own arms around Dave again, maneuvering himself until Dave’s head was tucked into the crook of his neck, warm and safe. 

With the snow falling, they’d have a lot of things to do. They were both young and fit, so John would inevitably volunteer them to help scrape the sidewalk in front of their apartment complex before it turned to ice. They’d have to make sure the plants Jade had gifted them weren’t getting snowed on as well, and maybe even bring them in for a bit. John would have to drag out their space heater for Dave, and he’d probably have to find their damn box of mittens and fuzzy socks as well before his poor husband turned into a block of ice on their couch. He’d have to make something warm and hearty for dinner too- stew, chili? And if the snow was still falling they really should make the trek to the grocery store and make sure they had food before it got worse.

So many things to do, John could feel himself itching to get up and get started. But then Dave groaned and shifted closer to him, letting out the softest sound of contentment, and John knew he didn’t want to be anywhere else. 

\---

It’d been eight before. Now, it was ten in the morning and John could feel Dave shifting, stretching himself out until all his joints popped and cracked, pressing a hello kiss so tender to John’s neck that he wouldn’t have felt it if he hadn’t been mostly awake for the past two hours, petting Dave’s hair and thinking. 

He waited until Dave had settled down again, and then John pulled away and pecked him, smiling at those sleepy red eyes. “It snowed last night.”

The agonized groan Dave responded with really personified his feelings about the cold, and John laughed, sitting up to rob him of his warmth and tease him. “I haven’t looked, but I bet it’s pretty bad!”

“Why the fuck did I let you drag my ass up here?” He rubbed his palms against his eyes, taking the opportunity to stand up and open the curtains, peering outside. Almost immediately he let out another dramatic groan. “Whatever all that bullshit you said about Seattle being not a by-product of Satan’s ice cold heart was bullshit Egbert, and I ain’t ever wanna hear otherwise.”

“You’re such a baby Dave!”

“You got heatstroke in 86-degree weather with sunscreen on while swimming. Shut the fuck up.” He pointed an accusatory finger at John, but only got more laughter out of it, his arms reaching out for Dave. 

Dave glared at him for a minute, but gave in and moved to hug John. “If you stop throwing a baby tantrum about the snow I’ll make extra spicy chili for you without complaining about your spicy bean farts later.”

“…Deal.”

\---

One of the best parts about the cold weather was Dave demanding that they share a shower, turning the water so hot it made his paper pale skin red. 

One of the worst parts about the cold weather was how a chill seemed to sink right into the marrow of his bones, sapping all of his energy. He was left so worn out and shivery that it took twenty minutes of John rubbing his back and kissing him for Dave to work his way back up to a normal level of energy. And when they’d gotten out of the shower, John had to turn the heat vents high and personally dry Dave off with his fluffiest towel just to keep the shivers at bay.

Then Dave had pulled John’s clothes onto his thin frame, that familiar rhythm back in his movement that had drawn John in all those years ago, and John got to relive all those moments where he recalled falling in love with Dave. With the curtains open, the brightness only made him glow. He was perfect.

\---

No matter how good Dave looked walking around in John’s University of Seattle sweatpants, John wasn’t nice enough to do the groceries alone. He’d forced Dave into snow boots and a big scarf and hat and gloves, but then he’d dragged him out of the house like he was a disobedient dog, holding his hand tight as they braced the cold.

He’d stopped at the Starbucks on the corner of their block to buy Dave a peppermint mocha when he’d started shivering and hugging John’s arm. 

“You’re an asshole,” was the only response Dave offered, and he only did so with a line of whipped cream on his upper lip that John didn’t hesitate to lean over and kiss off of him. 

“You’re the one who wants spicy chili. I need to know how much spicy is enough for my picky husband,” his own hands were still ungloved from when he’d been paying for Dave’s drink, and he wiggled his finger to show off the still novel bands on his left hand, smiling at the way Dave bowed his head, cheeks pink. It made them both happy to just remember what a married couple they literally were.

\---

The inside of the grocery store was almost too warm compared to the frigid cold outside, and John ended up abandoning his coat to shove it in the cart, while Dave continued to keep everything on, like he was trying to suck heat out of the air and preserve it for later. He looked ridiculous walking beside John like that though, pushing a cart while John piled ingredients and snacks in while he bundled himself up.

Yet, it also prompted John to buy a lot more warm foods. A cart that would normally be full of ice cream and hot pockets found soup and pop tarts and other things that came out of the box room temperature in their place, anything to protect Dave’s tender hands from the cold that was blowing through Seattle.

Dave didn’t seem at all distressed by the collection of food they’d managed to pick out, and as they left he pressed his head on John’s arm, uncharacteristically quiet but seeming content all the same. Considering the cold though, John just assumed he was worn out. He needed all his energy to conserve heat.

\---

The chili tasted great, and the two of them finished it off with homemade box brownies for desert. They laid on the couch, a mug of warm milk for them each, Dave curled up against John and both of them under a blanket, Home Alone 2 on the television. Outside it was still snowing, cold and wet and miserable but beautiful in its own way.

He turned, kissing Dave’s temple, reaching around him for another brownie. “You know, these store brand ones taste better than anything Betty Crocker and her advertising cronies and chef slaves could come up with. I’m just saying.”

Dave snorted, the asshole, but then grabbed another one for himself. “Yeah? Can’t say I spent my whole childhood being subjected to the boxed baked goods lifestyle your busy father subscribed to, but I’ll trust you. Not that a bad brownie exists. Even some charred shit that got left in the oven for two hours ‘cause the exhausted mom making it needed a nap has some goodness in it’s dried out once-gooey centre.”

“You’d hate them too if you’d lived off of them dude. No kid should ever think, ‘gee, I really want some apple slices because I’m so fucking tired of cake and brownies,’ but there I was at every party, the shitty apple slice kid. Mom’s loved me.”

“I love you too.”

It’d come out so suddenly that all John could do was laugh, before he grabbed Dave’s hand to kiss it, “you’re a loser. But I love you too.”

\---

Together, the two of them got out all the extra blankets from the closet and absolutely covered the bed with layers of fabric. Dave huddled under most of them like a cocoon, and while John knew he’d melt he did squirm under half, opening his arms for his husband.

He only woke up a little sweatier than normal. But it was worth it for Dave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a Christmas gift for [Lexi](http://thespacemaid.tumblr.com/) that I gave her months ago and then just forgot to post. Whoops!

**Author's Note:**

> These drabbles are writing warm-ups for me, and as a result they are mostly unedited and there may be grammatical errors and such. Feel free to comment if you see one. Characters and ships will be added with the chapters. Tags may also appear paradoxical because of the drabbles!
> 
> Also feel free to send drabble prompts to [my Tumblr](http://magigirljane.tumblr.com/ask) if you're interested! Of course, the ship doesn't have to be Johndave, and other ships I've written for are similarly fair game. 
> 
> And remember to leave kudos/comments if you enjoyed this fic.


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